Through the Ever Night

The color drained from Hess’s face. “What can I do with them? They’ll be told to wait for the second deployment.”



Sable’s lips lifted into a smile. “You know there won’t be a second deployment. It’s a single crossing.”



“Yes, I know that,” Hess said tightly. “But they won’t.”



Aria’s knees softened, her shoulder bumping against Liv’s. Hess and Sable were going to pick and choose who went. Who lived and who died. She couldn’t catch her breath, and she felt nauseous. Sickened by how coldly they discussed leaving people behind.



Roar’s grasp on her arm tightened. “Aria, you have to stop!”



Sounds erupted in the hall. She tensed, racing through the commands to shut off the Eye.



“In here!” someone yelled.



Roar drew his knife. Aria heard the thud of a shoulder driving open the door, and then the crash of wood against stone. In the darkness of Liv’s room, she saw a rush of movement. A black tide crashing toward them.



She backpedaled, fumbling with her satchel. Her legs slammed against the balcony wall as she shoved the Eye deep inside the leather pack. Footsteps pounded closer, and then guards appeared, shouting for them to stand down, steel flashing in the dimness.



Liv drew her half-sword from its sheath, stepping around Roar.



“Liv!” he yelled.



The guard at the helm raised a crossbow, stopping her. She stood a few paces in front of Aria and Roar, poised to slash. Sable’s guards filed in, forming a wall of red and black across the wide threshold. They were trapped on the balcony.



Everything was still, silent, except for the even, unhurried tread of footsteps. Sable’s men stepped aside as he came forward. Aria saw no trace of surprise on his face.



“The girl has the eyepiece,” one of the guards said. “I saw her put it in her bag.”



Sable’s gaze moved to her, cold and focused. Aria firmed her grip on the satchel.



“I took it,” Liv said, still in her fighting stance.



“I know.” Sable took a step forward, his chest working as he scented the air. “I knew you’d had a change of heart, Olivia. But I’d hoped you wouldn’t act on it.”



“Let them go,” Liv said. “Let them leave, and I’ll stay.”



Roar tensed beside Aria. “No, Liv!”



Sable ignored him. “What makes you think I want you to stay? You stole from me. And you’ve chosen another.” He looked to Roar. “But there might be a solution. Maybe you have too many options.”



Sable snatched the crossbow from the man at his side and trained it on Roar.



“You think that’ll change anything?” Roar said, his voice hard. “It doesn’t matter what you do. She’ll never be yours.”



“You think so?” Sable asked. He firmed his grip on the weapon, readying to fire.



“No!” Aria thrust the satchel out over the wall. “If you want the Smarteye back, swear you won’t hurt him. Swear in front of your men you won’t, or I’ll drop it.”



“If you do that, Dweller, I will kill you both.”



Liv surged forward, sword swinging. Sable adjusted his aim and fired. The bolt left the crossbow. Liv flew backward and fell.



Her body struck the stones with a sickening thud, like a heavy sack of grain heaved to the ground. Then she lay still.



The real was broken. It had a glitch, like the Realms. Liv wasn’t moving. She lay just a pace away from Aria’s feet. From Roar’s. Her long blond hair spilling over her chest. Through the golden strands, Aria saw the bolt that had struck her, blood seeping up, spreading deep red over her ivory shirt.



She heard Roar exhale. A singular sound. A sigh like a last breath.



Then she saw what would happen next.



Roar would attack Sable, no matter that it wouldn’t bring Liv back. No matter that half a dozen armed men stood beside their Blood Lord. Roar would try to kill Sable. But he would be the one killed, if she didn’t do something now.



She lunged. Wrapping Roar in her arms, she flung herself back, pulling them over the balcony wall. Then they were weightless and falling, falling, falling through the darkness.



33



PEREGRINE



Forget about her,” Kirra whispered, staring up at him. “She’s gone.”



Her scent flowed into Perry’s nose. A brittle autumn scent. Leaves that crumbled into jagged pieces. The wrong scent, but he felt his fists unfold. His fingers spread on the small of Kirra’s back. On flesh that didn’t feel the way he wanted. Did she feel his fingers shaking?



“Perry …,” Kirra whispered, her scent warming. She licked her lips and stared up at him, her eyes glinting. “I didn’t expect this either.”



A fierce hunger rolled through him. Heartache that pounded inside his chest like the breaking waves. “Yes, you did.”



She shook her head. “It’s not why I came here. We could be good together,” she said. Then her hands were on him. Fast, cold hands running over his chest. Skimming his stomach. She moved closer, pressing her body to his, and leaned up to kiss him.



“Kirra.”



“Don’t talk, Perry.”



He took her wrists and drew her hands away. “No.”



She settled onto her heels and stared at his chest. They stayed that way, not moving. Not speaking. Her temper lit like fire, crimson, searing. Then he scented her resolve, her control, as it cooled and cooled, icing over.



Perry heard a bark along the beach trail. He’d forgotten about Flea. He’d forgotten about the storm roiling above them. He’d forgotten, for a second, how it felt to be left behind.



Strangely, he felt calm now. It didn’t matter if Aria was hundreds of miles away, or whether she’d hurt him, or said good-bye, or anything else. Nothing would change the way he felt. Not ignoring his thoughts of her, or being with Kirra. The moment Aria had taken his hand on the roof at Marron’s, she’d changed everything. No matter what happened, she’d always be the one.



“I’m sorry, Kirra,” he said. “I shouldn’t have come here.”



Kirra lifted her shoulders. “I’ll survive.” She turned to go, but stopped herself. She looked back, smiling. “But you should know that I always get what I’m after.”



34



ARIA



Aria had flown before, in the Realms. It was a glorious thing, soaring with no weight and no care. Flying felt like becoming the wind. This was nothing like that. It was an ugly, grasping, panicking thing. As the Snake River blurred closer, her only thought—her every thought—was hold on to Roar.



The water slammed into her, hard as stone, and then everything happened at once. Every bone in her body jarred. Roar tore out of her grip, and darkness swallowed her, driving every thought from her mind. She didn’t know if she was still there—still alive—until she saw the wavering light of the Aether calling her to the surface.



Her limbs unlocked, and she kicked, pushing through the water. Cold pierced into her muscles and her eyes. She was too heavy, too slow. Her clothes filled, dragging her down, and she felt the strap of her satchel looped around her waist. Aria grasped it and swam, every stroke thick, like cutting through mud. She broke the surface and sucked in a breath.



“Roar!” she screeched, scanning the water. The river looked calm on the surface, but the current was brutally strong.



Filling her lungs, she went under, searching desperately for him. She couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of her, but she spotted him floating close by, his back to her.



He wasn’t swimming.



Panic exploded inside of her. She’d thrown him over the balcony.



If she’d killed him—



If he was gone—



She reached him, grasped under his arms, and towed him up. They surfaced, but now she had to kick harder. His weight was immense, and he was limp in her arms, a dead weight pulling her down.



“Roar!” she gasped, struggling to keep him above water. The cold was beyond anything she’d ever experienced, stabbing like a thousand needles into her muscles. “Roar, help me!” She swallowed water, and started coughing. They were still sinking. Still falling together.



She couldn’t talk. Aria reached up, fumbling, finding the bare skin at his neck. Roar, please. I can’t do this without you!



He jolted like he’d woken from a nightmare, wrenching out of her arms.



Aria surfaced and retched river water, fighting to catch a breath.



Roar swam away from her. She had to be losing her mind. He’d never leave her. Then she saw a dark shape floating toward them on the current. For an irrational second, she thought Sable had come after them, until her eyes focused and she saw the fallen log. Roar latched onto it.



“Aria!” He reached for her and pulled her in.



Aria grabbed hold, broken branches jabbing into her numbed hands. She couldn’t stop shaking, shaking from her core. They passed beneath the bridge and raced past homes along shore, everything dark and still in the dead of night.



“Too cold,” she said. “We have to get out.” Her jaw was trembling so much her words were unrecognizable.



They kicked toward shore together, but she didn’t know how they made it. She could barely feel her legs anymore. When their feet thudded against the gravelly riverbed, they released the driftwood. Roar’s arm came around her, and they waded on, clinging to each other, reality returning with every step.



Liv.



Liv.



Liv.



She hadn’t looked at Roar’s face yet. She was afraid of what she’d see.



As they trudged out of the river and onto land, she suddenly weighed a thousand pounds. Somehow, she and Roar hobbled up the shore, carrying each other, stumbling arm in arm. They passed between two houses and crossed a field, plunging into the woods beyond.



Aria didn’t know where they were heading. She couldn’t keep a straight line. She was beyond thinking, and her steps were weaving.



“Walking can’t cold anymore.” It was her voice but slurred, and she didn’t think she’d made sense. Then she was on her side in the tall grass. She couldn’t remember falling over. She drew into a ball, trying to stop the pain that stabbed into her muscles, her heart.



Roar appeared above her. There for an instant, then he was gone, and all she saw was Aether, flowing in currents above her.



Aria wanted to go after him. She didn’t want to be alone, and all she felt was aloneness. She needed a place with falcon carvings on the sill. She needed a place to belong.



When she opened her eyes, spindly tree branches swayed above her, and the first light of dawn colored the sky. Her head was resting on Roar’s chest. A thick, coarse blanket covered them, warm and smelling of horse.



She sat up, every muscle in her body aching, quivering with weakness. Her hair was still damp from the river. They were in the fold of a small gully. Roar must have moved her while she was asleep. Or unconscious. A fire smoldered nearby. Their jackets and boots were set out to dry.



Roar slept with a soft smile on his lips. His skin was a shade too pale. She memorized the way he looked. Aria wasn’t sure when she’d see him smile again.



He was beautiful, and it wasn’t fair.